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I follow her to the hall where her coat is hanging. “A cat? Interesting twist.” I’m mesmerized by the way she bites her lip in concentration as she fishes for her keys.
I need to stop thinking about her fucking mouth and what it tastes like because I remember. I remember everything. It’s part of my curse. Having a vivid memory means reliving the events of my life even if I don’t want to.
Nova catches me staring, and it snaps me out of my head.
“It gets lonely on the road,” she says. “He’s been my cat for years. I want to say he’s my emotional support cat, but he hates emotion, and he’s really not supportive at all. If he could talk, he’d tell me to suck it up and get over it.”
I’m impressed with her ability to catch me off guard with these snappy remarks. My shoulders shake with laughter as I take the keys from her. How did I not see she had a cat?
“I have a backpack for Figgy,” she says, like she can read my mind. “I took him with me when you were fixing my van.”
“Figgy?” I flip the keys in my hand and chuckle on my way to the door. Not in a ha-ha funny way, but in a what-the-fuck-is-happening way. “Alright. I’ll bring you your cat.”
In a twenty-four-hour period, I’ve suddenly gained not only a woman and a baby but a cat, too. All dropped into my life like a bomb—a prepackaged family.
Once I’m outside and walking to the diner to get Nova’s van, my attention turns to Jess. I run scenarios through my mind until I click the unlock button on the remote. There’s no easy way to have this conversation, and I’m a ball of nerves when I hop into the driver’s seat and close the door.
I turn to face the luxurious interior, and Nova’s words at the diner come rushing back. She doesn’t need my money, that’s for sure. I told Xan she was a spoiled rich girl after I slept with her, and she’s been talking like things appear in her life because she wishes it, so it shows that I was right.
She doesn’t need me to support her, yet she’s still here. She needs something. If she can take care of herself, why is she choosing to be here with me?
Shaking the suspicion from my mind, I chastise myself for thinking of her like this. She is spoiled, maybe. Rich, for sure. But she’s kind. She’s open and vulnerable with me, or at least she has been about the baby.
We agree that we don’t want this kid to end up with parents who can’t get their shit together. I have no clue what happened with her folks. But I am intimately aware of my parents and the poison they are to each other. I never want to be that.
As I sigh and stretch some of the tension out of my shoulders, I can’t help but wonder if I’m already poisonous.
A gray lump wriggles beneath the comforter on the bed, startling me. Its low, throaty yowl sounds through the van as it peeks out, scared green eyes following me carefully.
“Hey Figgy,” I say, stepping closer and slowly reaching out.
Figgy’s growl turns to a loud hiss. I snap my hand away and engage in a stare-down with the feline. It’s clear he isn’t going to calm down, so I decide to get the van to Nova, then take my truck to see Jess. “It’s okay, buddy. I’m not going to hurt you.”
I put the van in reverse and pull out of the parking space. Figgy watches me in the rear-view mirror with murder in his eyes. My gaze flickers, constantly checking the mirror as I try to work out what this Satan cat has planned for me. By the end of the two-minute drive, I’m covering the back of my neck with my hand, convinced the attack is coming.
“I’m more scared of you than you are of me, buddy,” I grunt at the cat. “Trust me.”
Pets are not a thing for me. Animals hanging out in my space have never appealed to me, and maybe this is why. The goddamn creature is rooting through my soul like Jet’s horse.
I crack the van door, quickly slip out, and then jog to the apartment. Nova’s sitting on the couch with her head tilted back and her eyes closed. When she hears me, she opens one eye.
“That was quick,” she says, and I toss the keys at her. They hit her hand and bounce off.
“Your cat terrifies me. No way I was giving it more time to plot my death.”
“Figgy hates everybody.” She sits up and grabs the keys from the floor.
“Well, with a name like Figgy, I honestly don’t blame him.”
Nova scowls, grabs a throw pillow from the couch, and tosses it at me. I dodge it easily.
“Just stay here until I get back, okay? I don’t want you to face my sisters without me. For your safety.” I wait with a raised brow until she agrees, and then I sprint to the truck. My nerves drive me, adrenaline fuels me, this whole day has been one big fucking high, and I’m very close to crashing hard.
I call Jess from outside her small, one-story house on the other side of Raston—the “good” side where the lawns are all pristine and the blinds are permanently closed. Where people like me feel claustrophobic.
“Hey, I’m out front. We need to talk.” I slump in my seat and adjust the hood on my head. I’m so terrified of this conversation that I can’t hold myself up.
“I’ll be right there,” she says, her voice soft like she’s trying not to disturb someone next to her.
